Demyx's Valentines Letters
by CountingWithStraws
Summary: Seven years after leaving the Professor, Demyx realizes that he's still in love with him. Will he go back or has too much time passed?
1. Letter One

AN: Hey! Here's the beginning of a Valentine's Special for you guys! There will be three letters posted up to Valentine's Day & then an actual one-shot on the day itself.

Enjoy & DFTBA!

* * *

_Dear Valentines,_

_I have made many mistakes in my life. Who hasn't? And I have often wondered what would have happened if I had done this or that differently. The infamous "what ifs." If I had just had the courage, if I could have taken that metaphorical jump._

_He was there, you know, at the airport. He had found out that I was running and had come to stop me, come to tell me what it was all right. He wanted to get married and he had come to tell me that he still wanted me even though I couldn't marry him._

_I got on the plane._

_It's been seven years since then, since I last saw the Professor, and yet I still dream of him nightly. I dream of his soft voice and warm flesh..._

_I remember the Sunday mornings after a passionate night: all the soft cotton and pillows that cocooned our naked flesh, the lingering scent of rose candles, and the gentle sounds of birds singing to the rising of the sun. I would often join them with the Professor's head on my chest, my fingers combing through his thick hair, so meticulously taken care of that it was silken._

_We would spend the entire morning in bed together, sometimes talking, sometimes singing, sometimes reading, often in silence. It was our time then. Just us. It didn't matter that we were Professor and student, that he could lose his job and I my scholarship. We were Romeo and Juliet with no notion of our end._

_In the afternoons we would bathe together, laughing and playing as the water sloshed out of the antique tub. Then he would make love to me right there on the bathroom floor, unable to wait for night._

_After that we would always be much more productive, much more well behaved. I would do my homework and he would grade papers, but always, always, we were touching in some way. It felt wrong not to—as if by not touching we were missing apart of ourselves. Only by touching could we be whole._

_God, I miss him._

_I loved him._

_I'm such a fool._

* * *

AN: If you have a second, please suggest a rating. I always get so confused because M is 16+ & T is 13+ & I haven't been 13 in ages! There's a possibility that it'll get more lemony.


	2. Letter Two

_Dear Valentines,_

_I dreamed of the Professor again. He was singing, horribly, at the top of his lungs, with a dozen red, long-stem roses in his hands. He was waltzing around his library all by himself. I remember that being my favourite room of his house: towering rows of thick, old, leather bound books, worn and soft with age. His cats were always in the large, cushioned bay window seat, lounging in the afternoon sun. _

_It had been a horrible day for me, packing up the remnants of my dorm whilst scrambling about to get to my exams on time. The following day was graduation and I had to be ready by then to vacant my dorm. Luxord, my dormmate and now bandmate, had been completely unhelpful because of a massive hangover. _

_When I got to the Professor's I was exhausted both physically and mentally, and all I wanted was food and a warm bed. What I got was a dancing Professor of Arthurian literature singing completely off key. Typically not a good idea when you're dating someone who will be receiving his BA in Music the next day. _

_I yelled. _

_He got down on his knee. _

_Not to say the sex afterwards wasn't phenomenal—oh, god, it was—but I was on a plane the next day. I didn't even go to my graduation ceremony._

Demyx sighed and tossed his journal down on the chair beside him. It was late. He looked out the window. Scratch that, it was really damn early. How many lonely sun rises had he unintentionally stayed up to see over the years?

Getting up, he stretched his long, stiff muscles, groaning softly, and then stripped out of his clothes. He should try to sleep a little; the tour bus was always too obnoxious. Demyx walked across the cold wood floor and slipped into the bed beside Luxord. He had been sharing a bed with his best friend for seven years, but never once did either one of them consider anything more. Luxord loved women too much and Demyx just hated spending more money than necessary—sharing beds in hotel rooms was cheaper.

Rolling onto his stomach, Demyx wondered what happened to the Professor after he left. He had disconnected his email and phone, left all networking sites, and even changed his gaming accounts. It was a hard cut, but it was for the best.

Demyx had wanted to tour the world playing music, and even though the Professor had said he'd willingly drop everything and come with, Demyx knew he would have been miserable. The band life was a lonely life. You could only depend on your bandmates to be there for you and Demyx hadn't been ready to be the Professor's everything. Hell, he was only twenty-three at the time!

"Luv, yer making some strange noises over t'air. You alright?" Luxord mumbled into his pillow.

"Yeah, fine." Demyx frowned and closed his eyes.


	3. Letter Three

_Dear Valentine,_

_I saw him today. He was sitting by the window of a second floor coffee shop. I could see all the papers and books piled on his table from where I stood on the sidewalk. He was planning on being there for a while. _

_Why is he here? He works on the other coast!_

_I nearly went to him. But I didn't. My foot was on the street when I saw another join his table. It was a blonde man with messy hair and a checkered shirt. He looked to be about mid-twenties. I guess the Professor's tastes in age never matured. _

_I don't know why, but I threw my gas station cappuccino at the window and walked off. I was just so angry! Not a day goes by that I don't think of him and he's replaced me with a tacky checkered shirt copy!_

"Fuck Valentines!" Demyx threw his journal across the dressing room, loose pages of poetic remnants scattering into the air. The journal hit the ceiling and then crashed onto the floor like a bird shot by an arrow in midflight.

"Well, luv, if t'ats how yer feel about it," Luxord said from his chair by the make-up stand.

Demyx was quiet for a moment as he glared at the deceased journal.

"Yer look as if yer have somet'ing evil in mind."

"Ever thought about sex with a guy, Lux?" Demyx asked softly.

Luxord's eyes widened. "Givin' up yer chastity, eh?"

Demyx nodded, his eyes never leaving the journal.

"How long's it been?"

"Five years."

"And yer want me ter shag yer angry arse?"

Demyx looked at him with cold, dead eyes.

"Alright! Alright. I don't need yer pissed with me, too. I'll shag t'er 'ell outta yer after t'er gig."

"Cheers mate," Demyx said in a faux British accent and grinned as he left the dressing room.

Luxord shook his head and murmured, "Total nutter." He then pulled out his cell phone and sent a text: _Better make your move tonight, mate. He's right pissed with you._


	4. Will You Be My Valentine?

_Better make your move tonight, mate. He's right pissed with you._

Axel sighed and snapped his phone closed. For seven long years he had kept in touch with Luxord, if only to know how Demyx was really doing—despite what the media said. He knew it seemed stalker-like since they were no longer together, but just because Demyx didn't want to marry him didn't mean he couldn't care for him. And he had tried to move on, to date other guys, but he never seemed to click with them as well as he did with Demyx.

"You look emotionally constipated, Professor."

Smiling, Axel looked up at his grad-student. "You always have such a delightful way with words, Roxas."

"Now you look even more constipated. What's wrong?" Roxas leaned on the table, his fingers toying with a delicate engagement ring.

Axel rolled his eyes. "Don't you have something else to do?"

"Don't avoid the subject, Axel."

With a sigh, Axel said, "Luxord texted me."

"And?"

"It was Demyx who saw us earlier."

"So?"

"He's angry."

Roxas smiled. "Someone's jealous."

"Unnecessarily."

"So, now what?"

Axel looked out of the coffee shop window, still stained from Demyx. "Hmm…"

* * *

Demyx followed Luxord into the hotel room, his body still high on the adrenaline from the gig, but his mind was beyond exhausted. He looked at his best friend's backside and firm ass. What the hell had he gotten himself into? Sex with Luxord! He sighed. That was a bad idea if he ever had one.

"I'm going to shower," Demyx mumbled as he walked into the bathroom.

"Get yer arse nice and warmed up fer me, will ya?" Luxord chuckled from the bed.

Demyx squeezed his eyes tightly as he shut the bathroom door behind him, and whispered, "Fuck."

He was in way over his head with this one. He hadn't eve been able to have proper sex since the Professor! Yes, he had tried for a little while. He'd go out with guys, he'd go back to their place, but then either he couldn't get aroused or he'd become bored halfway through. After two years he just… gave up.

As he undressed he contemplated the possibility of running out on Luxord. It didn't look too good considering that his friend was between him and every possible exit. Starting the shower he wondered at the chance of Luxord being asleep by the time he got out. Not likely, Luxord was usually just as physically jacked up as he was after gigs. He frowned.

* * *

Axel laid the roses on the bed and walked to the window overlooking the ocean as Luxord left the room. He didn't know what to expect. Would Demyx accept him again? Even if just as friends? He didn't know if he could handle the love of his life running from him again.

He heard the bathroom door open slightly and Demyx softly call out, "Lux?"

No one answered.

Demyx sighed in relief and exited the bathroom, fully nude. After living so long in very tight quarters, Luxord and he had become familiar with each other's nudity, and generally thought nothing of it. As he walked over to his duffle bag he heard someone clear their throat and quickly turned towards the window.

"Who's there?!"

"Could you please put some pants on?" The voice was tight, strained, and unmistakable.

Demyx's eyes widen. Dear god, what was the Professor doing here? "A-axel…"

"Pants."

"Right." Demyx frowned and went to grab clothes from his bag, but paused at the sight of the roses. "Did you…?"

"For fuck sakes, Dem, put some goddamn pants on!" Axel was next to him in a heartbeat, snatching a pair of flannel pj bottoms from the duffle bag and shoving them in his face. "I want to have a serious conversation with you, not be driven to molestation!"

"What?" Demyx looked at him, Axel's features were tight and his eyes heated.

"You're in better shape than you were seven years ago, idiot, and you're half hard. Now put your fucking pants on." Axel snapped and walked back towards the window, keeping his back to Demyx.

Confused, Demyx slipped his pj bottoms on and sat on the bed, looking at Axel. For several minutes they were quiet. Shoulders slumped, Demyx watched Axel. He was tense and unusually still—Demyx had always found his inability to sit still endearing, but this stillness unsettled him.

Unable to bare the stillness, Demyx looked down at the roses, and smiled. They weren't just the stereotypical romantic roses, like the hybrid tea rose _Rosa 'Camp David,' _that you find in any common flower shop, these were _Louis de Fun__ès_. They were gorgeous orange, double flower blooms that are renown for their longevity.

"You remembered," Demyx whispered, running his finger across one of the soft petals.

Axel turned and looked at him. "How could I forget your favourite?"

"Why are you here?" Demyx looked at him.

"I thought that was obvious."

"Seven years is a long time."

"I had memories to keep my company."

Demyx frowned. "I'm not the same person I was then."

"I'm willing to get to know you again, if you'll give me the chance?"

"You were with someone earlier."

Axel walked over to the bed and sat beside Demyx. "My graduate student, Roxas. He's graduating soon and, if his plans go well, will marry his high school sweetheart soon afterwards."

"So you're not?"

Smiling, Axel shook his head. "I haven't been with anyone since you. I tried, but it never worked out."

"Your work."

"I've been thinking of taking some time off to write a book."

Demyx frowned. "I might not settle down for years, Axel."

Turning, Axel cupped Demyx's cheek, his warm fingers brushing against Dem's soft skin. "Was that why you left all those years ago?"

"Will you be mad if I say yes?"

"Furious." Axel leaned forward and kissed him. His lips were hot and demanding. Moaning softly, Demyx pulled him closer until they tumbled backwards and Axel had him pinned him to the bed. "Will you be my Valentine and give us a chance, Dem? Life hasn't been right without you."

Demyx looked at his sincere emerald eyes and his tangled main of vivid red hair. It was the face he had dreamed of over and over again for the past seven years, unable to move forward. Running away had been a mistake, he had known that as soon as the plane took flight, but maybe… maybe it was time for a second chance.

"Yeah, I'll be your Valentine."


End file.
